


2Shy

by leiascully



Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [58]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, X-Files OctoberFicFest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Maybe Mulder was her Virgil Incanto.
Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/249118
Kudos: 4





	2Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: "2Shy"  
> A/N: For the Inktober prompt "enchanted".

He saw Scully sometimes, when he looked at victims. She could be a lonely heart herself, as isolated as he kept her. Mulder could imagine Scully on the internet. She wasn’t an easy mark, he knew that, but on the other hand, there was a solitude inside her. He had contributed to that. He'd kept her locked in the basement. He’d tucked her into the inside pocket of his coat and brandished her at people like his badge.

He suspected she was susceptible to poetry, for all her practicality. 

Maybe Mulder was her Virgil Incanto, leading her into some netherworld. He was always spinning the chaff of conspiracy and rumor into gold for her. He heaped stories into her lap for her to skein around her fingers. He’d tethered her to him. He hadn’t felt any urges to sip the lipids from her skin yet, but he acknowledged the possibility that he was draining something vital from her, case by case. She’d already had months of her life siphoned away by some unknown force.

“Good night, Mulder,” she said, and smiled at him even though he could see the weariness weighting her down. He was sure there were bruises blooming under the silk of her blouse. He wondered how she could bear bathrooms anymore, or if the hot water did something to sluice away the ache and the fear.

“Good night,” he said, and closed his own door. Two people, separated by a flimsy wall and an aching chasm of silence. He stared at the ceiling for hours, but there was no one to hear him confess.


End file.
